


Clock Struck Twelve

by The_Audacity



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:02:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29593908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Audacity/pseuds/The_Audacity
Summary: Halloween, a day of otherworldly reverence in many human cultures for centuries, is a curious time of devious delights. Most have long since shirked the sacred duty of spiritual appeasement, though some still believe the other side will inevitably revisit this mortal realm to seek their toll of the living at last.
Relationships: Ishida Uryuu & Kurosaki Ichigo
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Theme song: "Mouth" by Bush

_Halloween, a day of otherworldly reverence in many cultures for centuries, is a curious time of devious delights. The tale of origin begins with a word nearly forgotten and often mispronounced: Samhain. The night of All Hallow’s Eve was one to be both feared and respected, a night where the bonds of reality could be broken to allow strange and mystical occurrences. People showed their deference to the spirit realm by offering sacrifices of treats, carved gourds, or even slain livestock. It has since become synonymous with costumes, candy, and youthful antics. Most have chosen to shirk the sacred duty of spiritual appeasement, though some still believe the other side will inevitably revisit this mortal realm to seek their toll of the living at last._

“What a load of crap,” grumbles Ichigo as he flings the magazine across the room. “I seriously doubt anyone from Soul Society or Hueco Mundo is about to roam the streets begging for sweets and complaining of a lack of jack o’ lanterns anytime soon.”

To be fair, it isn’t the article’s fault he is in such a poor mood. He borrowed the magazine from his sisters as something to distract himself from what has really been bothering him all day. From his first lecture at university to the moment he returned to his apartment, Ichigo hasn’t been able to get past what happened last night. Walking back from a meal at their favorite restaurant, he and Ishida had split from the rest of the group since they live closer to each other now. Ichigo had been thankful for the privacy.

“ _There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you, Ishida.”_

“ _What is it?” he asked, finishing a text on his phone before looking up at Ichigo. “Want to study tonight?”_

“ _No—I mean, yeah, we can but that’s not it.”_

“ _What’s on your mind, then?”_

_Sensing a certain level of distraction from his friend, he gets Ishida’s attention by dropping a hand to his shoulder to stop him. Alone on a dark residential sidewalk, only the moon illuminates them as they turn to face each other. The familiar weight of blue eyes on him is comforting. Crickets chirp in the deliberate pause Ichigo takes before diving in._

“ _I realize that this is sudden, but I’ve been wanting to tell you that I like you. I’m serious, Ishida. I think you know I’ve liked you for a while now and I’m pretty sure you feel the same. So, will you go out with me?”_

“ _No, Kurosaki. I won’t.”_

It still stings, no matter how many times he replays the scene. Without a word of explanation, Ishida had coldly turned and walked away from him immediately after delivering his swift answer. It was almost as if he had been expecting the question and had a ready reply waiting to launch. More frustrating than anything is the fact that he didn’t deny or confirm liking Ichigo back. How could he leave it like that?

He has to see Ishida again tonight at a Halloween party they already agreed to attend.

The worst part is the only costume he could find on short notice is a cheesy werewolf get-up he borrowed from Keigo. If anyone other than Inoue were throwing the party, Ichigo wouldn’t hesitate to bail, or at least go as himself instead of some stupid monster. Haven’t they seen enough real monsters in their lives already? Instead, here he is wrinkling his nose at the strong smell of silicone and synthetic hair as he pulls on the mask and gloves. Completing the outfit with a shredded shirt, Ichigo calls it good and leaves before he changes his mind.

The first thing he thinks upon entering Inoue’s apartment is...she is much more popular than Ichigo thought. Although she moved into a larger place with Tatsuki after high school, the heavily decorated space is filled with guests dressed in a surprising array of creative designs. Everything from the Mummy to a giant human candy corn is represented in a collection of friends ranging between high school, college, and even a few from Soul Society. Rukia spots him as soon as he slouches inside, clapping a hand to her bobbing witch’s hat as she scampers over.

“Wow, Ichigo, nice costume! If not for your reiatsu, I wouldn’t have recognized you.”

“That’s because I’m wearing a mask,” he feels compelled to say, despite a weird echo caused by said accessory. “Have you seen Ishida yet?”

“Kurosaki-kun, you came!” chimes Inoue before Rukia can respond. “Help yourself to the Halloween goodies in the kitchen. I made them myself!”

“I helped,” Chad pointedly adds, decked out as an elaborate Frankenstein’s monster.

“I get these two, but what are you supposed to be, Inoue?”

“I’m Blossom, the Powerpuff Girl. See my pink bow?”

“Oh, I get it,” he nods, not getting it at all. “Have you guys seen Ishida?”

“Patio.”

“Thanks, Chad. I’ll be right back. He and I have unfinished business.”

It comes out more menacing than he intends. Ichigo blames it on the mask. Winding his way through the jubilant crowd of creatures, he crosses the living room to slide open the second floor patio door and step back out into the chill night. For some reason, he figured Ishida would be by himself, but Ichigo sees samurai Tatsuki standing beside him, both leaning over the balcony rails facing the star-studded sky. She turns to offer a greeting as Ichigo slides the door shut behind him.

“Where have I seen that costume before?”

“It’s Keigo’s.”

“Oh, right,” she grins. “I helped him pick it out. He was looking for ‘something sexy to thrill the ladies’ and I said there’s nothing sexier than a super-strong wolf-beast bursting out of his clothes. I was joking but he didn’t seem to realize that.”

“It’s all I could find last-minute,” Ichigo defends through her snickers.

“It works better on you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Do you mind giving us a minute? I have something I want to say to Ishida.”

At the sound of his name, the man finally turns to glance at Ichigo over his shoulder. He is rocking a handsome and elegant Bela Lugosi as Dracula number complete with fake fangs that breach the seam of his mouth to poke lightly into the lower lip. The high-collared black cape contrasts sharply with the crisp white dress shirt and vest underneath, accented with a white bowtie. The only colors besides his eyes are a gold medallion hanging from a bright red ribbon. Ichigo swallows, marveling at how well it all suits him.

“Sure. It’s kinda chilly out here anyway. See you inside, Ishida-kun.”

“Candy corn relay race later, Arisawa-san?”

“You’re on!”

Ichigo pulls off his mask while she slips inside. He takes a deep breath of fall air and steals Tatsuki’s previous place next to Ishida, but now he doesn’t want to look at Ichigo anymore. His eyes tilt skyward as he speaks in a sarcastic tone.

“You should leave it on, Kurosaki. The mask is an improvement.”

“Yeah? Looks like you picked a better costume, though.” Ishida’s gaze slides sideways to rest on him at the veiled compliment, so he adds another layer. “Black suits you. I wanted to tell you that when you had to wear a shihakusho back in Seireitei.”

Ishida frowns. “What do you want?”

“Why did you turn me down?”

“Too many reasons to list.”

“Not the right ones,” Ichigo insists, angling his body towards him. “Not the most important one. Can you even say it?”

“What? That I don’t reciprocate your feelings?”

“Do you?”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re too different, Kurosaki; it would never work between us. Please don’t bring it up again.”

On that note, he pushes off the railing and strides into the party. Ichigo lets him go. He stares out at nothing for a few minutes, brooding because he can’t deny it either. They are probably too different and it might not work, but he still wants to try. The problem is getting Ishida to see it his way. Suddenly, he gets the disturbing notion that if he lets this go tonight, he’ll never get another shot.

Bursting into the living room with every intention to track the jerk down and demand they go on at least one real date before calling it quits, Ichigo’s determined impetus is countered by a stranger yelling in the center of a stunned group of guests. Most of these costumes resemble what they are: cheap material stitched to last a night or two at best. The newcomer’s garb, however, screams authenticity. Donned head-to-heel as an archaic, grotesque witch, the shriveled old woman bellows nonsense imbued with a power that makes the hairs on Ichigo’s arms stand at attention. A faint green glow emanates from her creepily gesticulating fingers. They splay out to deliver an incorporeal blast that shivers through the terrified crowd, only to dissipate without apparent purpose.

“This curse delivered unto ye,

To be suffered by all who see.

None shall escape cruel fate,

Until it is far too late.

With these solemn words I attest,

Broken only by mortal’s best.

A knight and dragon’s bitter fight,

Shall darken all hearts this sacred night.

Unless these two should bind,

Intimate in more than mind,

Hell shall rise to lay claim,

Now free to kill and maim!”

With a flourish, the witch cackles and disappears in a puff of purple smoke. Silence smothers the room’s occupants in the wake of this phenomenon. Even Rukia seems baffled by the proceedings. As soon as he can sneak over to her side, Ichigo leans down to ask if that might have been kidou, but she shakes her head. Inoue is quick to rally, praising the creative poem—sonnet, he can’t help mentally correcting—and the magic show someone was kind enough to schedule.

Eager to shake off the fleeting fear of such a ridiculous event, everyone accepts Inoue’s excuse and resumes party activities. Ichigo is left with a sense of foreboding that his close group of friends seem to share. Since no one has keeled over yet, he isn’t about to panic for no reason. Instead, he does his best to enjoy the party while investigating. Going so far as to try the Halloween snacks and guess what gooey mess is inside a secret box.

Despite the weird tone set by an arcane intruder, the soiree goes well. A few hours later, people start to excuse themselves and head home. Ichigo should leave, too. Catch up on the studying he hasn’t done all day because it’s Friday and he can never seem to study on weekends until Sunday night. He shoots one last longing look in Ishida’s direction before deciding to leave it alone for now. His brain hurts too much from all this pointless cogitating to keep it up anymore.

The lonely walk home is soured by a brand new issue. Although he barely nibbled at the questionable products of Inoue and Chad’s kitchen adventures, Ichigo starts to feel a wrenching sickness in his stomach, adding to the headache he was already suffering. It tugs and flips and burns in ways he has never experienced before. His skin breaks out in a cold sweat. The path sways wildly below him so that Ichigo must draw to a stop and prop against a building as he breathes harshly.

His cuticles itch. Pulling off the costume glove and bringing a hand up to inspect them, Ichigo’s mouth falls open in shock to see black claws pushing out his flat nails. The bones of his hand contort and extend, sending frissons of pain up his arm as he watches his fingers grow like eager weeds. The flesh at his throat stretches and his neck seems to elongate. Next is his spine. It snaps and creaks, sending him collapsing to the concrete as he fights back a scream.

Fear streaks through his feverish mind.

Knees arch and shift to form a different type of joint. His shoes split at the toe to reveal more claws. Just as Ichigo notices his nose jutting away from his eyes, bloody teeth begin rattling onto the ground between hairy, outspread knuckles, to be replaced by something large that hurts enough to make his eyes water. The erratic thud of an overtaxed heart becomes too loud in his pointed ears. His rib cage bends, cracks, and this time Ichigo does scream.

Except it sounds more like an animal’s howl than anything human.

“Do we have a theory on that strange woman?” Uryuu asks as soon as the last of the guests leave.

“That was freaky,” comments Arisawa. “But she seemed harmless and I am way too tired to care anymore. Goodnight, guys.”

“Tatsuki-chan, wait,” Inoue tries, only to have her concern waved off. “I’m worried, Ishida-kun. I didn’t book a spooky witch as entertainment!”

“I thought as much.”

“Should we call Kurosaki-kun back?”

“No, perhaps we should leave him out of this one. He has enough to think about lately.”

“Oh, did something happen? He didn’t mention anything...”

“It’s nothing serious,” Uryuu assures, electing not to mention he is the reason Kurosaki has been more subdued than usual. “I’m sure he’ll get over it soon enough. I will patrol tonight.”

“I’ll go with you. Sado-kun lives nearby, too.”

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary. I have my cell phone if things get serious and I need back-up. Otherwise, please get some rest, Inoue-san. Thank you for a wonderful party.”

Flashing a small reassuring smile, Uryuu slips through the front door before she can object to this potentially reckless plan. It really may turn out to be nothing but a Halloween hoax after all. It isn’t outside the realm of possibility for someone to have heard the party going on and dropped in for a quick scare, nothing more. The ‘magic’ used certainly wasn’t of Quincy origin, and Rukia seemed confident it wasn’t Shinigami work either. Plus, there seems to be no result to the witch’s ‘spell’ thus far.

The longer he mulls it over, the more confident Uryuu feels that there is no danger in the prank. Besides, his focus is slowly being stolen by a fierce thirst as he makes his way through the park near his apartment. Given that he didn’t eat or drink anything at the party, he probably just needs some water. Slim as he is, dehydration comes easier than most. Or so he tells himself until it gets so bad that his throat seems to crack and peel from dryness.

Weariness creeps into him with startling swiftness. He leans against a park bench and brings a hand to press against his forehead, only to yank it away from the startlingly cool temperature. Taking his pulse for signs of illness, Uryuu’s eyes flare to count less than twenty beats per minute. At that pace, he should be in a deep coma! Mouth gaping, his fake fangs fall to the metal bench with twin clacks. Yet, when he shuts his mouth a pair of long teeth imprints on his lip.

Uryuu reaches a finger up to feel one of his canines. He jolts when a pinprick of pain on the pad of his thumb is confirmed by a welling blossom of viscous red. The sight of it does something strange to him. The taste as he licks it away does something worse. Uryuu shuts his eyes as a hint of bliss sparkles at the edge of his mind. He wants more of that feeling, more of that taste. _Needs_ it more than anything in the world.

A rustle in the trees ahead snatches his attention. It is only a squirrel bounding through the trimmed grass. Uryuu can hear its tiny little heart pattering like hasty footfalls. Senses sharpening, he can even catch a whiff of the animal’s unique scent. Whispers of its proffered tastiness fill him up, urge him to seek the rodent for a quick snack because he is already _so thirsty_. What is one less squirrel in a park full of the furry critters?

He is about to break into a sprint and nab it when Uryuu registers another presence in the trees. It comes loping from the brush full-tilt towards the squirrel, crossing the wide distance with predatory ease. A great, burly wolf-like thing snarls as its jaws crunch the poor prey into a meal. Realization dispels whatever macabre bloodlust held sway over Uryuu as he recognizes Kurosaki’s unmistakable reiatsu emanating from the wolf. Not to mention the coat color is curiously similar to the ginger’s messy mop.

“Kurosaki!?” The snout whips in Uryuu’s direction, splattered in blood with a puffy grey tail sticking out from one side. It spits out the fibrous tail, lapping the residue away with a curling tongue, and cautiously approaches him, sniffing the air. “Kurosaki, is that you?”

The animal does not answer. It begins to circle Uryuu curiously, watching through golden eyes while slowly closing the distance in a pacing spiral. He stays completely still and tries to appear non-threatening. Who knows if this is actually Kurosaki, much less whether he can understand words or identify him as a friend? The one thing he is sure of is that this giant, muscular beast could easily rip him to shreds if Uryuu makes the wrong move. The sinister glint of sharp claws and canines promises as much.

It inches nearer. Uryuu holds his breath. A lip raises to flash its wickedly dangerous teeth on a low growl. Slowly sinking to sit on the bench, Uryuu tears his gaze from the wolf and exposes his throat in a show of canine submission. The growling stops, replaced with deep _whuffs_ of eager sniffing. Wolf-Kurosaki then sticks his nose invasively close to Uryuu’s crotch, crossing a line. He pushes the beast’s head away on impulse and tenses when he hears a short snarl.

“No means no, Kurosaki,” he snarls right back, bearing his own fangs. Surprisingly, his defiance is answered with a confused whine. “Are you truly as dumb as you look right now? Is there nothing left of Kurosaki in that dense skull?”

A tilted head and blank stare confirm the theory. Even so, Uryuu can’t exactly let this pseudo-Kurosaki run free all night devouring rodents and possibly attacking people. Better to lure him somewhere safe, somewhere other than his own apartment in case the wolf decides to destroy everything for frustration of captivity. Kurosaki’s flat it is, then. The only question is how to get him to follow.

Wolves like to chase things, don’t they?

“Okay, Kurosaki, let’s go home. You want to go home, don’t you?” The wolf glances off towards the trees, clearly disagreeing with that assumption. He doesn’t give a single thought to Uryuu when he scoots sideways and starts to walk away. “Come on, you idiot. This way.”

No response. The solution is obvious but unpleasant. Before he can rethink this, Uryuu kicks the wolf’s flank and takes off running in the general direction of Kurosaki’s place. Without looking behind, he can hear the wolf giving chase with a startled bark. Now that he’s pissed off, Kurosaki is more likely to follow Uryuu as long as nothing else grabs his interest before they reach their destination. That’s assuming he can run faster than a huge wolf-man rather than be tackled and eaten.

A regular runner, Uryuu is not surprised that he can maintain speed for a considerable distance. The scary part is normally he would be panting and sweating with exertion by now, feeling a predictable mix of fatigue and warmth counteracted by a stream of endorphins. That is not what is happening now. Sprinting across town with a furious monster in tow, Uryuu may as well be lounging in a comfy chair for all his physiology seems stressed.

Wind whips across his skin but not through his lungs.

Forcing himself to focus on the task instead of dwelling on his worrying condition, he reaches Kurosaki’s door in excellent time. Now he just has to get it open before the wolf can pounce. Fortunately, he knows where Kurosaki keeps his spare key; he is definitely the type to lose them on occasion. Uryuu yanks up the door mat, snatches the key taped underneath, and shoves it into the lock. Paws hit him as he twists the handle. Both go sprawling into the apartment in a jumble of flailing appendages. Uryuu doesn’t even have time to raise his hands and protect his face. He squeezes his eyes shut in preparation for the attack.

A wet, sloppy tongue slides across his cheek.

The shock fades quickly in favor of thwarting the animal’s insistent licks. He just ate a squirrel for goodness’ sake! Uryuu shoves the wolf off and pushes to a stand, woozy with relief that he won’t be dog food tonight after all. Dodging Kurosaki’s continued advances, he closes and locks the door before he can escape. All he has to do is survive the night cooped up with a giant puppy that seems to lack any notion of boundaries. Given Kurosaki’s personality, though, it makes sense he would be this kind of werewolf.


	2. Chapter 2

Warm. Ichigo is so warm, relaxed and comfortable like he hasn’t been in a long time. He nuzzles his nose against the pillow and breathes deeply as sleep recedes. Smiling to himself, Ichigo tightens his hold on the blankets he is squeezing and stretches out his legs. Although he has no clue why he is in such a good mood, he is content to enjoy it while it lasts. He blinks open his eyes, wondering what time it is, and freezes in place.

“I-Ishida!?”

Far from snuggling up to mere bedclothes, Ichigo is naked and clinging to none other than his obstinate crush, still dressed as Lugosi from last night’s party. The man stirs at the sound of his name. He takes one look at Ichigo’s flabbergasted expression and snorts.

“Go back to sleep, Kurosaki.”

“Wha—But we’re...Am I dreaming? This has to be a dream.”

“Stranger things have happened, but no. Now shut up and let me rest.”

A glance at his alarm clock has him exlaiming, “It’s past noon!”

At that, Ishida pushes him away to sit up and glare. His eyes follow the line of Ichigo’s bare body until he frantically covers up with the forgotten blanket, embarrassed under the sudden scrutiny.

“Thanks to you, I didn’t get to sleep until almost dawn after being harassed for hours. In case you’ve been blessed with amnesia, we attended a Halloween party last night and got cursed by a witch to become the costumes we wore. Therefore you are a werewolf and I am now a vampire. I spent the night chasing you around the apartment to keep you from breaking loose and hurting anyone. I worked up quite the appetite, and I am _very_ thirsty. If I were you I wouldn’t give me a reason to _indulge_ , Kurosaki. So if it’s all the same to you, I would prefer to get a few more hours of rest.”

Ishida sinks back into the pillows to imitate the dead while Ichigo’s head spins from information overload. Werewolf? Vampire? _Thirsty_? It starts to come back to him. The excruciating pain and debilitating fear of the Change. Leaving his ruined clothes behind on the sidewalk. Flashes of disjointed memory as a wolf filter through, along with strong emotions like hunger and exhilaration. He remembers darting after Ishida and finally catching him as being the most fun he has had in a while.

“This is nuts...” he mumbles, inspecting his normal appendages and furless flesh. Even his teeth have reverted to blunt molars, flat incisors, and short canines. “You brought me home?”

“Couldn’t let you run amok, could I?”

“I wouldn’t have hurt anyone! Uh, probably.”

“Tell that to the squirrel that became your dinner,” Ishida peeks an eye open to mutter.

“I ate a squirrel!? Oh, shit...” Looking Ishida over for injuries, he leans in close and demands, “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“If by ‘hurt’ you mean annoyed me into a headache, broke through the bedroom door when I tried to lock you out, and proceeded to tackle me to the bed refusing to let me up, then yes.”

“Ugh. I’m sorry, Ishida. I appreciate what you did but I don’t want you endangering yourself again. Next time just shut me in a car or something. I can’t stand the thought of you suffering because of me.”

The remainder of Ichigo’s breath leaves him in a rush as he is pushed flat on his back in a supernaturally fast motion with Ishida looming over him. A tremor of unease jolts through him at the eerie look in Ishida’s dark eyes. His heart rate increases with a combination of excitement and trepidation, and those eyes jump to the rapid pulse at Ichigo’s throat. The word _vampire_ floats through his consciousness with fresh significance.

“Perhaps you should be more concerned with the danger you are in, Kurosaki,” he murmurs through those gleaming fangs. “You have to calm down; the faster your heart beats, the harder it is to resist biting you.”

Of course that statement only makes it worse. Ishida’s hands tighten on his arms, tongue darting out to wet flushed lips, and Ichigo sucks in a tiny gasp as it dawns on him how erotic this is. Before today he would have said all that vampire hype was idiotic, juvenile. Given the effect Ishida is having on him like this, he can’t say it’s bullshit anymore. How long has he waited to be the object of that type of stare, even if it’s for the wrong reason? A little blood is a cheap price to pay.

“Then don’t resist.” Ishida’s widening gaze snaps back to his in silent question. “If you really are a vampire, I can’t let you loose to bite someone else by accident. At least I can fight you off if you try to take too much.”

“Stop it.”

“I’m serious, Ishida. We have to track down that witch and get her to reverse this, right? There’s no way we’re the only ones who got affected, the only ones confused and scared. There were a lot of people at that party. Use me to refuel so we can go fix this.”

“No, I won’t do it,” he insists, drawing back and shaking his head. “I won’t become a monster.”

Ichigo follows him, sitting up to grab his shoulders before Ishida can get off the bed. “Monsters kill people. I won’t let you kill anyone, I promise. In return, keep me corralled the next time I change. We’ll watch each other’s backs like always.”

“This is insane.”

“Here, I’ll make it easy for you.”

Reaching into his nightstand, Ichigo produces a pocketknife and flicks it open. Intending to make a small cut on his palm, he doesn’t get the chance as Ishida knocks it across the room and captures both of his wrists in a firm grip before he can even try. Then he throws Ichigo back to pin his hands to the bed above his head with an angry hiss. His brows dip into a wrathful V and his eyes turn flinty.

“Don’t you dare!” A bit stunned, Ichigo doesn’t attempt a debate. “Why is it fine for me to hurt you after you were just whining about not wanting to hurt _me_? Do you think I could forgive myself if—”

“I want you to.”

Tugging his hands from Ishida’s slackened grasp, he reaches up to pull him closer. Mouths inches apart, Ichigo stares into his eyes as he nips his own lip just hard enough to break skin. Ishida jerks to see blood welling up in a perfectly round drop. He breathes in the rich scent, exhaling a soft moan. Helpless to this unfair temptation, he breaks. A quick lick to taste and Ishida is kissing him hard, fingers tightening around Ichigo’s skin. His tongue sweeps in, faintly metallic and overtly sensual.

Ichigo reaches up to untie his cape, unbutton his vest, and unclasp his medallion. Lost in bloodlust, Ishida doesn’t even notice. He kisses Ichigo until every last trace of that drop is gone. Only then does he break free with a wild gleam in his eyes. Ichigo tilts his head to offer his neck, a guiding hand to the back of Ishida’s head for encouragement. A moment’s hesitation is all he can withstand before diving down to bite.

It stings more than he expected. The way Ishida moans into it and wraps his arms around Ichigo’s chest, firmly fitting their bodies together, more than makes up for the brief pain. His hands instinctively clench into Ishida’s dress shirt. Adrenaline drenches his mind and shrieks he’s going to die even as a wash of dopamine soothes that if he does he’ll enjoy every last second. His skin ignites. Sweat dots his temple and Ichigo groans at the lewd sucking sounds right below his ear. Hips shift on their own. He curses the scrap of blanket trapped between them.

Ichigo starts to feel dizzy before long.

“Ishida,” he breathes far too quietly. “Enough.”

He lets go almost immediately, surprising both of them with a depth of restraint he shouldn’t have. Wiping at the mess around his mouth, Ishida crawls off the bed and goes to stand near a corner of the room. He pulls his arms around himself to calm his obvious trembling. Ichigo stops at his dresser to pull on a pair of pants before going to him. Hesitating to touch, he settles for hovering close and offering silent support as Ishida wrestles with himself over what just happened.

“Are you—?”

“I’m fine. Absolutely fine. You?”

“...Sated.”

“That’s good, right? Problem solved. Now we can—”

“I have to wait for sundown,” Ishida sighs, barely turning to glance at him. “I found out the hard way this morning before I thought to close the curtains.”

“Dusk is only a few hours away.”

“Four and a half.”

“We can call around and see if anyone else knows anything while we wait. Inoue was dressed as some kind of superhero, so I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll call her first.”

“Tend to your neck first, idiot!” Ishida shouts too vehemently. That is when Ichigo realizes it’s the reason he doesn’t want to look at him. “Do you want to bleed out and die so you can come back to haunt me?”

“Calm down, it’s not even—Whoa.”

“What?”

Swiveling around to see what made him speechless, he follows Ichigo into the bathroom where he splashes water to wipe drying blood away, revealing nothing but smooth skin. The small cut on his lip is gone, too. They stare at his throat as if a couple of fang marks will appear if they watch long enough. Ishida lifts a hand to drag two fingertips over the line of his neck, inadvertently causing a pleasant shiver down Ichigo’s back.

“How is that possible?”

“Best guess?” Ishida begins after a moment, “Werewolves are supposed to have accelerated healing powers. Add that to your wealth of spiritual energy and...”

“I heard vampires can heal with saliva,” he returns with a meaningful glance at Ishida’s mouth. “We should test the theory. It could come in handy.”

“Maybe later,” comes the snarky retort. “For now, why don’t you just take a shower. Who knows what messes you got into before I found you last night?”

A naughty thought pops into Ichigo’s head and Ishida immediately sees it cross his face. His eyes narrow in warning but Ichigo has to say it anyway.

“Wanna join me?”

Rather than dignifying that with a response, Ishida leaves the bathroom and slams the door behind him. Ichigo sighs, flipping on the water and pushing his pants down. Since he is still turned-on from earlier, he makes the water frigid.

He definitely doesn’t regret confessing. Now that his feelings are out in the open, Ichigo can stop hiding his urges and screening his romantically inclined comments. Ishida may be adamantly denying his advances for the moment but he knows he can change his mind in time. Ichigo just has to show him that it’s worth a shot.

When he emerges clean ten minutes later, Ishida is pacing in the living room talking to someone on his cell...and wearing some of Ichigo’s clothes.

The second he hangs up, he catches Ichigo staring and snaps, “Don’t get any ideas. I can’t very well go around wearing some stupid Dracula outfit all night, can I? We don’t have time to worry about stopping by my place to pick up clothes when the city is in a panic.”

“I am _really_ not complaining. Wait, why is there panic?”

“Because apparently the witch didn’t just curse Inoue-san’s party guests but the whole neighborhood. Goblins, ghouls, and a fair number of giant bunny rabbits are running rampant through Karakura.”

Despite the gravity of this news, Ichigo laughs. Considering the types of kids costumes are out there these days...kitty cats, bumble bees, fairy princesses. What about people who wore inanimate objects? There could be six-foot tall dildos and walking skeletons roaming in broad daylight. He almost wants to run outside right away and look around. Ishida’s withering glare keeps him in check.

“So, we just have to track down this witch and get her to reverse the spell.” Plopping onto the couch and pulling out his phone, Ichigo blinks to see so many missed calls and texts. Since when does he sleep that hard? Oh, probably since he has his very own vamp-Ishida to snuggle up to. “Maybe Urahara can wrangle up a way to find her.”

“I already tried. The Shinigami don’t know anything about her and they’re not very keen to get involved. Even Kuchiki-san doesn’t think it’s a good idea to meddle in mortal affairs.” Ichigo has always been envious of his ability to text and talk at the same time. Watching Ishida’s fingers fly over the keys faster than ever while rattling off a long list of updates makes him smile. “Inoue is fine, by the way. Apparently she can fly and shoot lasers from her eyes now. She’s been rounding up missing kids since dawn. Tatsuki is protecting civilians from the more grotesque creatures and Chad is doing damage control with a group of looting hoodlums.”

“Wow. You found all that out in ten minutes?”

“I’m beginning to suspect certain perks to this condition now that I’ve fe—now that I’m no longer so thirsty. I seem to be brimming with energy.”

The thought that Ishida is hopped-up on organic, grade-A Essence of Ichigo sends all sorts of weird feelings swirling in his chest. Mostly possessiveness and lust with a dash of pride. Kind of the complete opposite of that time Ishida tore up his arms by channeling Ichigo’s excess reiatsu to save him from power overload.

“That’s cool,” Ichigo comments, trying to sound casual.

“I can hear your heart beat, Kurosaki.” He says it almost accusatorily, eyeing him with evident suspicion. “Just say whatever you’re thinking.”

“Nah, it’s embarrassing. Anyway, aren’t we supposed to be finding a witch?”

“The problem with that is there might be no way to track her. Once I realized what she had done last night, I kept trying to locate her by traces of reiatsu. Even at the party she didn’t seem to have any strong sense of spirit, though. It’s possible she isn’t human, Shinigami, or Hollow.”

“Then what is she?”

“In her spell, she referenced Hell. I’m wondering if she is a lost soul bent on resurrecting her kin from that dimension. When I mentioned this to Kuchiki-san, she seemed unconcerned, stating that it would take much more powerful magic to open the Gates than a single soul could muster.”

“Figures Soul Society would bow out when _we’re_ the ones who need help.”

“Rather than dwelling on what we can’t do, I’m wondering if her spell is actually the key to break it. Do you remember the caveat in the wording?”

“Um...”

“I’ll take that as a negative,” Ishida nods like he expected as much. “I did a few quick internet searches and found out that these types of myths often included a method of reversal in the spell itself, almost as a failsafe. So when she said, ‘broken only by mortal’s best’ I assume she meant a champion. That may as well be you in this case.”

“Sounds about right,” Ichigo readily agrees, glowing at that bit of praise.

“The next part is where it gets complicated. ‘A knight and dragon’s bitter fight shall darken all hearts this sacred night’ implies some sort of feud between rivals being the target of the incantation. But that is directly followed by ‘unless these two should bind, intimate in more than mind’. Honestly, I have no clue what that could mean.”

Ishida falls silent at the sound of Ichigo’s racing heart because he does have an idea what the witch might have been getting at, but his friend is not going to like it. He could be jumping to crazy conclusions, but if this spell was directed at them for some reason, then maybe...No, it’s too far-fetched even for Ichigo. There’s no way some random old woman would show up to Inoue’s party and curse a whole city just to get him and Ishida to hook up. No one is that insane.

Unless that person somehow knew how manic Ichigo has been over this unrequited love.

“Yeah, who knows? Maybe the old hag is just nuts.” His forced laughter does nothing to persuade Ishida.

“Didn’t I just remind you that I can hear your pulse? There’s no point in lying to me anymore.”

“You don’t want to hear it.”

“Tell me.”

Sucking in a steadying breath, Ichigo looks anywhere but at Ishida as he says, “Well, I’m sure this is dead wrong but it almost sounds like...I’m the knight, you’re the dragon, and we should sleep together to break the spell.”

“Unbelievable. Even in the midst of a crisis you have the gall to solicit me!”

“I said you wouldn’t want to hear it, didn’t I? What else am I supposed to think in this situation? My name means ‘one protector’, yours is ‘rain dragon’ and we’ve been rivals for years.”

“We aren’t fighting, Kurosaki.” Rethinking that, he amends, “Right now we are but I mean in general.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. We’ve been fighting the chemistry between us since we met. At least, I know I have.”

“How ridiculous,” Ishida huffs, shaking his head. “I can’t believe we are even discussing this. I won’t lend credence to nonsense.”

“All I’m saying is it’s an option,” he grumbles, folding his arms and slouching against the arm rest. “Unless you have a better idea.”

“ _Any_ other idea is better. In fact, that can’t even be called an idea. Sex to break a spell? Only you would think up something so vulgar, Kurosaki.”

“Fine, then let’s hear your ‘any other idea’.” A long silence follows. Ichigo is afraid he has gone too far, but his instinct is to push the issue further. “Are you saying you hated kissing me? Maybe it was just the blood, but you seemed pretty into it.”

“Irrelevant,” he snaps and stands to resume pacing the room. “We’ll find another way. Start with patrolling the city as soon as the sun goes down and see what we can find. Actually, you should go ahead and—”

“Uh-uh. No way, Ishida. I’m not leaving your side until this is over.”

Something in his tone or expression must convey his unwillingness to debate that point, since Ishida takes one long look at him and sighs.

“Fine. We stick together, but only because we have no idea if or when you’re going to change again tonight.” Noticing Ichigo’s wince at the mention of changing, he asks, “Was it that bad?”

“I hesitate to say it was the worst pain I’ve ever felt, considering all the things I’ve been through in my life, but...”

“I’m sorry.” Ichigo shrugs the sentiment off and Ishida perches beside him once more. “It could be worse. You could’ve gone as an alien or a human lollipop or something useless like that. You may not have control as a wolf but at least you can protect yourself.”

“Could you really see me as a lollipop?”

“...He says after I’ve just tasted him,” Ishida mutters to himself, earning a chuckle from Ichigo. “I seem to recall one year you decided to wear a loaf of bread and call yourself a ‘gingerbread man’.”

“Ah, come on, that was hilarious! Because of my hair? Get it?”

“You’re still an idiot.”

“Yeah, but I’m _your_ idiot. Or, I could be. I want to be.”

Ishida looks away with a shallow frown at that. “Why are you so stubborn? How many times do I have to turn you down before you get it?”

“Just once,” states Ichigo, completely serious, “But you have to actually mean it.”

Ch. 3

Creepy critters are everywhere. A lady bug bumps into a fox, who yips in fright and bounds across the room, stirring up a trio of terrified fairies clustered around a tough-looking gremlin. Their search for a ‘scary old witch’ has been leading them all over town, including a classroom on lock-down while their parents freak out down the hall about their kids becoming mini monsters. Although the witch in this case turned out to be a harmless teacher, just like all the others they have come across so far.

“This is never going to work. A witch is one of the most common costumes available. We’d have better luck going door-to-door asking ‘witch-or-treat’.”

“Oh my gods,” gasps Kurosaki, “That is the biggest spider I have ever seen!”

“I wonder if the spell has to work within the limits of natural laws,” Uryuu theorizes aloud with a thoughtful hand on his chin while Kurosaki gingerly skirts the waist-high eight-legged thing. “Such that if the original vessel was of a certain set of dimensions, the creature they change into must also be living and about the same density, size, and inclinations. This group of kindergartners appears to be behaving in much the same manner as an energetic collection of children might, rather than devouring or killing each other as the animals they now resemble would likely do.”

“That’s nice and all, but how is that going to solve the problem?”

Uryuu shrugs. “Any information is better than none at all.”

“This is _pointless_ , Ishida. Let’s just go home and fu—do what we discussed earlier.” Considerate of the younger ears around them, Kurosaki offers a vague euphemism in lieu of an explicative. “What’s the harm in trying?”

“Do you think of nothing else?” he demands. Sweeping from the chaotic classroom, Uryuu marches down the hall and out of the small school entirely. Kurosaki stays close at his heels. “Even if you _truly believe_ sleeping with me will break the curse—”

“I do.”

“You could at least humor me in trying to find another way first.”

“I would, if you had any clue what to try. The longer this continues, the more people will be endangered. Not to mention I could change at any time and then we’d be stuck until the morning. Unless you’re into—”

“Don’t even say it, Kurosaki,” he growls, nearing the end of his patience.

“I don’t judge.”

Uryuu desperately wants to slap him. A flicker of movement ahead is all that saves Kurosaki from a rude awakening. They continue warily down the street searching for the disturbance. It could literally be anything. At the mouth of an alley, someone stumbles out in front of them. Dressed in monochrome with a striped shirt and crooked beret, the frantic newcomer makes all sorts of motions but no sounds.

“Is that...a mime?” Uryuu asks with a critical glance at his face paint. “An actual _mime_?”

“Looks like he’s trying to tell us something.”

Interpreting the message takes more concentration than they can muster, apparently. Kurosaki shakes his head in resignation and starts to walk past the man. Which is why he gets tackled by the thing the mime was trying to warn them about. Covered in muck and reeking of hot garbage, a half-decayed zombie chomps at Kurosaki’s face with vicious intent. He wedges an arm under its chin to keep it from taking a chunk out of his cheek. Uryuu’s mood miraculously improves.

“You got this, Kurosaki?” he blithely calls.

“Fuck—Augh! It smells so bad...”

“I believe that is a ‘she’. Don’t be rude.”

“God damn it, get _her_ off me,” Kurosaki shouts, trying to dislodge her with his knee. “She’s gonna drool on me!”

“Seems like she really likes you. About time you found someone willing to be intimate with you, if not exactly able...”

“Ishida!”

“Fine, but you owe me.”

Gliding over to grab the zombie by the scruff of her neck, he holds her up long enough for Kurosaki to scoot out from under her. Uryuu sets her back down and quickly side-steps her poorly aimed swipes in his direction. It takes her a while to regain her footing. Kurosaki wipes off some slime and scowls at the shuffling woman.

“Let’s just keep moving,” he gruffly orders.

“Aw, and leave without saying goodbye? You’ll break her heart.”

“I’ll break her skull if she lunges at me again.”

“That’s not funny. Please tell me you understand that we can’t hurt anything that attacks us? These people are under an evil influence and have no say in how they are acting. It is our duty to protect—”

“All right, I get it so shut up and let’s _go_ ,” Kurosaki whines, yanking Uryuu’s borrowed shirt to get him moving. “I was just kidding, you righteous nerd.”

Another couple hours of fruitless searching leads them through half a dozen such encounters across some of the shadier parts of town. They only pause once so Kurosaki can scarf down more than enough food to nauseate Uryuu. Eventually, he decides the only place they haven’t checked is the woods bordering town. If Uryuu were a sinister, powerful old witch, that is exactly where he would hide from a couple of nosy twenty-somethings trying to track him down and demand justice for a magical crime.

Trouble is all this tedious groundwork is making him thirsty again.

“We should stop and rest for a while,” he announces, perching on a large rounded boulder beside the riverbed.

“Why? I thought you were ‘brimming with energy’,” Kurosaki mocks with crossed arms. “I’m not even tired.”

“You refueled,” Uryuu can’t help retorting. He instantly regrets it when Kurosaki perks right up at the implication.

“Do you need more blood?”

“No! Don’t sound so happy about something like that, it’s disgusting.”

“Look, Ishida,” he says, dropping to prop his arms on either side so Uryuu has to lean back to avoid touching noses. “I get that it makes you uncomfortable but this is just how it is. You gotta do what you gotta do, right? And you’re lucky enough to have a willing donor at your side. So if you need to feed, stop fighting it and _bite me_ already.”

Affronted by this monologue, Uryuu bares his teeth with a short snarl and watches the way Kurosaki’s pupils explode at the display. His heart starts pounding. He folds into a kneel at Uryuu’s feet and turns his head to the side. That was not the reaction he was expecting! Didn’t it hurt when he bit the fool?

“Don’t do that! Get up.”

“Not until you drink.”

“I said I don’t need to.”

“Liar.”

“Damn it, Kurosaki, will you _listen_ for once!?”

Uryuu takes a breath to continue his tirade but Kurosaki’s palm claps his mouth closed as his head snaps alertly to the side. Perplexed by this behavior, he follows the man’s gaze but sees nothing other than trees and a winding river. Then he hears something in the distance. A terrified scream pierces the quiet, urging them to leap into action. He follows Kurosaki at a jog since he can detect the scent of whatever is causing the ruckus up ahead.

They break into a wide clearing of waist-high grass and brush. An older woman and a young boy are running through the field, stumbling in the darkness. This close, Uryuu can hear them panting with fear and exertion. He can see the flashing white of widened eyes and smell skin bathed in a cold sweat. Some part of his brain designates them as ‘prey’. Thirst swells but he manages to lock it down easily enough.

Kurosaki drops into a crouch, yanking Uryuu down beside him and pointing towards the area that the pair just came from. First one, then two, then several ravenous zombies flop into the clearing after the woman and boy. Teenagers. Probably an entire class who decided to throw an undead party. A sharp cry announces a gruesome injury and the woman falls. She doesn’t get back up. The boy cries out to her and Uryuu watches his little hands tug at her arm but it’s no good. Her leg is broken.

Gritting his teeth, Uryuu moves to help her. Once again Kurosaki stops him.

“Look,” he gestures towards the pursuing zombies. There are now well over a dozen and counting. “It’s a horde.”

“It doesn’t matter; we have to help them. We have to try!”

A rough grunt of pain from Kurosaki shuts him up. He is holding his stomach with one hand and scrabbling into the dirt with the other. In a matter of seconds, Uryuu watches fur sprout and carnassials descend. A series of unsettling snaps warp and bend the familiar shape of his friend. Kurosaki squints shiny golden eyes in silent agony as he begins the first stages of the Change. Uryuu hisses his name and grabs him as if he can physically force it to stop.

“Shit, why now?” Kurosaki literally _growls_ in a ragged imitation of his normal voice. “Ishida!”

“I’m here, Kurosaki, I’m right here,” he reassures. The harsh rasps of laboring lungs grows loud enough for a few of the closer zombies to detect. Uryuu ignores them for now. “Tell me what you need?”

“I need you...to save those two people.”

“What?”

“I’ll...distract—Gah!”

Kurosaki drops to his back and writhes in the detritus, gnashing his new teeth and twitching with spasms as his muscular tissue is violently rearranged beneath his flesh. If not for his larynx repositioning itself in Kurosaki’s undulating throat, he would surely be howling in misery. Held rapt by this horrifying transformation, Uryuu can do nothing but helplessly await its completion.

In a matter of moments, the man has become a wolf. It pushes to an unsteady stand on all fours and shakes leaves from its coat. Were-Kurosaki takes one look at the zombies in the field, several of which are headed towards them, and takes off after them. Uryuu panics. What he wanted to tell Kurosaki while he could still understand is that his canine counterpart doesn’t seem to remain cognizant of his human motives. Now there is nothing to keep him from ripping into some poor, bewitched zombie enthusiast.

He watches in astonishment as Kurosaki barks and growls, darting nimbly around the piqued monsters to round them up like a sheepdog. The more oblivious zombies are addressed with quick tugs to their decrepit clothing by careful jaws. Kurosaki is a furry flurry of energy in a rotting swath of slothful teenagers. Soon every head is turned in the wolf’s direction. Feet begin shambling towards him.

Truthfully, Uryuu is more worried of what may happen if his wolf is cornered. Whether willfully or not, that horde of decaying teens could easily shred him if captured. The only thing to do is hurry and rescue the victims so he can provide backup for the baying Were. He moves faster than ever before in his life to make that necessity happen. The boy is crying and refusing his mother’s insistence that he flee, but both fall silent at Uryuu’s arrival.

“I won’t hurt you,” he vows, kneeling to inspect the woman’s leg. “I’m here to help.”

“I-I can’t move it!”

“I will carry you, but it’s going to hurt. Please try not to cry out: our lives may depend on it.”

“Mama!” sobs the boy as she is gingerly lifted from the ground. “Mama!”

“Hush now, Akira,” the mother murmurs through a jaw clenched against pain, “Mama’s just fine. Follow the nice man, fast as you can, okay? Be a big boy for me.”

The child nods and knots a hand in Uryuu’s shirt as they start moving. The smell of blood on her fresh wound hits him hard. His mouth waters and his throat burns but he tunes it out to continue on. He leads them across the river, over two hills, and through another field before finding a park on the edge of the woods. Uryuu sets the woman down on a bench and immediately pulls out his phone to call Inoue. With her flying ability, she can be there in minutes. Luckily, she has been to this park with him and knows how to find it. Uryuu sighs with relief to hear her promise of help.

“My friend is coming to take you to the hospital. She will be here very soon.”

“Thank you,” whispers the woman with tears flowing down her cheeks. She folds Uryuu’s hand in both of hers, “Thank you so much.”

“Stay right here and you two will be safe.”

With that, he turns and sprints back into the woods. A faint trail of her blood leads him back but the zombies have all vanished. Focusing to sense them, Uryuu forces down an avalanche of anxiety and tries not to picture what could have happened to Kurosaki by now. No matter how hard he sniffs or strains to hear, he can’t figure out which way to go. His senses were much sharper right after he fed.

That’s when he realizes that he can just follow the pulsing beacon of Kurosaki’s reiatsu.

He has been a vampire for little more than twenty-four hours and already he has forgotten what he truly is: a Quincy. Until now, none of his normal abilities would have been any use since he can’t harm the humans who might attack. Kicking himself for not thinking of all this sooner, Uryuu uses the one aspect of his power that is primarily defensive. Hirenkyaku sweeps him towards the bright red node of power that is Kurosaki, werewolf or not. It didn’t occur to him to use it with the family earlier because he wouldn’t have been able to transport both of them simultaneously anyway, but he has no such restrictions now.

Uryuu finds him collapsed between a rocky ridge and two voracious zombies. The rest of the horde is still playing catch-up. He shoves the moaning duo aside to reveal Kurosaki bleeding from two wide gashes on his belly. The wolf whimpers at the sight of Uryuu and drops its weary head in relief.

“Kurosaki!”

Seeing him hurt like this is pure sulfuric acid washing through his veins. Uryuu cradles the animal close and zips out of there as quickly as he can. He doesn’t stop until they burst into Uryuu’s apartment. Laying the unconscious wolf onto the couch, he calls his name and grabs a throw blanket to keep pressure on the lacerations. He finds himself wishing Kurosaki would wake up, stop bleeding, and heal like he did earlier. Logic tells him to get the first aid kit. Instinct tells him something else entirely. While he deliberates which route to pursue, the first rays of dawn begin to shine through the cracks around his curtains and Kurosaki starts to become himself again.

It happens much faster this time. Uryuu barely has time to snatch his hands from fur before it shifts to skin. The rends in his abdomen do not mend as he reverts. They remain as garish streaks that taunt Uryuu for daring to hope they would simply disappear. Frustration and fear break through his propriety at last, sending him lapping at the edges of the injuries with the fervent hope that his saliva really is magical after all.

Kurosaki groans as he comes to. Brown eyes blink open and swivel down to see Uryuu licking at his stomach. It is immensely embarrassing but he doesn’t stop because it’s working. The raw flesh fizzes and seals wherever his tongue touches. The tantalizing taste of Kurosaki’s blood hardly registers past his relief to see him reviving. He works quickly and soon covers the last inch to leave no trace of damage or scarring. Uryuu grazes shaking fingers across smooth skin just to be sure.

“Thank you,” Kurosaki murmurs with eyes locked on his face. “You were really worried about me, huh?”

“O-of course, idiot. You’re lucky your wounds were superficial! How could you do something so reckless? Going up against all those corpses...Do you have a death wish, Kurosaki?”

He shakes his head with a small smile, sitting up to drag Uryuu into a tight hug. “I knew you had my back.”

“Stupid Shinigami-wolf,” he mumbles against a shoulder.

The longer Kurosaki holds him, the more he becomes aware of the man’s lack of clothing, forgotten in the forest where he changed. Uryuu shifts slightly in the embrace, daring to rest his hands on a broad back. A light pair of lips finds the shell of his ear. Whispers of something too meaningful to ignore have Uryuu closing his eyes in surrender. He has known how Kurosaki feels about him for a while now; he just wasn’t ready to accept it yet.

Uryuu is tired of fighting.

Wordless complaints of being pushed away are quelled as Kurosaki watches him stand up and pull his shirt over his head. Uryuu turns to walk down the hall, pausing in the archway to toss him a look of invitation. Kurosaki’s stunned expression makes him smile.

“Is this what I think it is?” he asks once he meets Uryuu in his bedroom. “Are you...?”

Words fail him when Uryuu drops his borrowed pants onto the floor. Now they are wearing an equal amount of nothing. Kurosaki’s pulse skyrockets, mouth falling open on a noisy exhale. He seems incapable of movement so Uryuu crosses the distance and kisses him. Even though he expects Kurosaki to explode in a torrent of passion and throw him down, or something ridiculous like that, all he does is gently return the kiss.

Uryuu breaks contact to ask, “What are you doing? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“I’m...” he awkwardly begins with a light flush, “I’m kind of...savoring the moment, I guess.”

Taken aback at this sincerity, he gapes at Kurosaki for a moment. Then Uryuu explodes in a torrent of passion and throws him down. Kurosaki hits the mattress with a startled yelp that turns into a moan when his neck is attacked not by teeth but by lips and tongue. He works his way south, scenting excited blood through the thin barrier of flesh his tongue caresses. Drawing teasingly close to a certain straining part of Kurosaki’s anatomy, he seals his mouth to the crease above a thigh and bites down.

Kurosaki’s cry is equal parts surprise, pain, and pleasure. Swallowing a single tingling mouthful, Uryuu licks the puncture closed before turning his attention somewhere even more interesting. He doesn’t suck Kurosaki down like he wants—won’t take the chance of mishandling his fangs—but settles for using his hands and the tip of his tongue. Kurosaki arches beneath him with a low groan, eyes tightly shut and brow fiercely furrowed. Uryuu lets off before he ends it too soon, shifting higher to settle their hips together. Kurosaki wraps arms around and pulls him into a deep kiss.

“I can feel you inside me, Ichigo,” he murmurs against slick lips, “Your blood, your reiatsu is setting me on fire. I want to show you how it feels. Will you let me?”

“ _Uryuu_ ,” is the impatient response, “You don’t have to ask.”

Granted blanket permission, Uryuu leaves him only long enough to snatch up a bottle and then he is right back between Kurosaki’s bent knees. Uryuu leans down to kiss lingering tension from him as he works him open. How many times has he imagined what this moment might be like? He was sure it would be a fight to get this far, to be allowed this prize without giving it first. Yet, Kurosaki is eagerly shifting to give him more room while watching Uryuu with unguarded desire in his gaze. He keeps grumbling for Uryuu to hurry up as brown eyes flutter shut in the pleasure of his long fingers.

His head swims with unexpected gratitude.

At a word from Kurosaki, he sinks and stills. It’s so good he bites his own lip, tasting the tang of copper. The man below him is too hasty for his own good. He starts rocking up with these stuttering little groans that destroy Uryuu’s resolution to go slow. But Kurosaki doesn’t want slow or gentle at all. He threatens to pin Uryuu down and ride him hard if he doesn’t comply. With a dissenting snort, he follows Kurosaki’s breathless order for more.

Soon, just looking at Kurosaki’s lust-clouded face is making him want to bite, to drink him dry, to possess him entirely. It feels too dangerous. Uryuu withdraws suddenly, rolling Kurosaki to his side and sliding in behind him. His arms bracket the man to hold him still as he uses the full force of his strength to make him shout. Any complaints he might have had about the change in position are drowned out by just that. Uryuu easily finds the angle that makes Kurosaki’s body shiver and his breath hitch.

Right about the time he starts to stammer Uryuu’s name over and over, a hand reaches down to grasp Kurosaki and squeeze. The wild timbre of his voice as he loses it does something to Uryuu’s subconscious. Although he had resolved not to bite him again, his fangs throb with the need to pierce the throat so beautifully offered up. His mouth moves against his will. The instant orgasm-spiked blood touches his tongue, Uryuu falls into the deepest abyss. He feels Kurosaki’s climax through the resonant roar of it pouring down his throat and adding to his own.

It is only with great effort and strength of will that Uryuu is able to release him. Kurosaki is breathing hard and faintly trembling. Worried that he went too far, Uryuu turns his face towards him with a call of his name. Blearily blinking at him, Kurosaki grins weakly with a far-off cast to his eyes.

“Ichigo, are you okay?”

“That was...” he trails off for a handful of seconds as if searching for the perfect word, but when that proves too difficult he settles for, “Fucking awesome, Uryuu.”

He collapses back to the pillow in relief. Kurosaki’s brain may be temporarily broken, but at least his heart is still beating. Despite that being the single most satisfying experience of his life, Uryuu wonders if maybe they should have waited until after the spell was broken to try this. One supernatural creature in bed is dangerous enough without combining two! Speaking of the spell, wasn’t Kurosaki’s absurd notion that this activity should have broken it?

“I still want your blood,” Uryuu comments.

“Is that code for ‘round two’? I’m game, but I might need to rest for a bit first.”

“It means the curse is still active.”

“Oh. Well, we tried.” Too tired for a real laugh, Kurosaki snorts at the deadpan look on Uryuu’s face. He rolls over to snuggle up and kiss the side of his mouth. Then he seems to realize something. “Wait, you...Uryuu, you didn’t fuck me just for that reason, right?”

“No, of course not,” he snaps, offended at the suggestion. “I’m not that altruistic.”

“Good. Then does that mean you—?”

“Yes, you fool, I do. I always have.”

Breaking into a wide grin, he kisses Uryuu and says, “I _knew_ it.”

Epilogue

A small group of friends stand in Orihime’s living room, blankly staring at a single object she holds. Rectangular and roughly the size of a fist, it is a simple children’s alarm clock. Nothing particularly spectacular about it at all. Except for the fact that the minute hand is a stylized depiction of a silver-armored knight and the hour hand is a green-scaled dragon. It shows the time as eleven fifty-nine at night.

“We spent so much time running around trying to figure out where the witch went that I never got a chance to look around my own apartment for clues,” Orihime explains while scratching the back of her head. “Tatsuki-chan was the one who found the right witch in the end. She admitted that the spell was temporary all along!”

“Magic that powerful has a shelf life of about two or three days,” Tatsuki confirms. “After that it dissipates harmlessly.”

“And since we managed to keep anyone from getting killed, the gates of Hell were never opened,” cheers Rukia.

Chad offers a thumbs-up in approval.

The little plastic knight clicks one degree right and aligns perfectly with the dragon to become ‘intimate in more than mind’. A billowing green haze puffs up from each of them as they revert back to their regular human/Quincy/Shinigami selves. They all heave a collective sigh to be back in their own skin again.

“What happened to the witch?” Uryuu has to ask.

“What do you think?” grits Tatsuki with a deliberate hand resting on her now-fake samurai sword. “I sent her back to visit her friends in Hell.”

“If she wasn’t human, she didn’t belong here anyway,” Ichigo shrugs. “I’m just glad it’s over. Being a werewolf was a lot less cool than they make it look in the movies.”

A round of concurring murmurs steals over the grumpy group. With their business done, everyone seems to disperse at once. It has been a wearying weekend and they are eager to leave it behind them. Uryuu waits for Ichigo to catch up outside so they can walk home together.

“I guess we were sort of useless this time around,” he tells Ichigo. “All that work and Arisawa-san was the one to end it.”

“She’s good like that.”

“But you know what this means, don’t you?”

“No more hot Vamp-Were action?”

“No more danger of me accidentally killing you because you turn me on so much I can’t hold back.”

Ichigo reaches out to pull him into a crushing kiss that lasts far too long for public decency.

“No more pretending you don’t love me back,” he breathes against Uryuu’s ear. “I want you to move in with me. I live closer to university anyway.”

“Fine.”

“Really!?”

“On one condition.”

“Name it, Uryuu.”

“No sex the day before an exam.”

“What? Come on...Even finals week?”

“ _Especially_ finals week, Ichigo.”

“Ugh! Fine.”


End file.
